


Lullaby

by spartanroses (babybrotherdean)



Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/spartanroses
Summary: Hours pass before Kratos notices that Atreus is not asleep.





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> I had a passing thought about Atreus not being able to sleep because he was used to Faye singing him to sleep, and Kratos needing to do something to help, and... here it is?
> 
> 0% proofread because. This is just the life I live.

Hours pass before Kratos notices that Atreus is not asleep.

They are well into the night, the moon high overhead where it peeks out from behind the clouds. The cabin is dark and quiet, as if the entire world has silenced itself in respect for the life that has so recently been snuffed out. As if the very life has been snatched away from their small home, gone with the setting sun.

Faye's ashes remain carefully secured to Kratos' belt, and he sits at the table, pensive. This grief is quieter than the last, but no less painful; it is not rage that threatens to choke him now, not like when he lost Lysandra to his own blade. This is different. Heavier, he thinks. Harder to process.

Atreus rests in his bed, still but for his breathing, and it is not until Kratos' eyes drift towards the boy that he notices its irregularity. Not the calm rhythm of an unconscious child, but the stiff, uneven breaths of one trying to hide that he does not sleep. One trying to keep quiet and unseen.

Kratos watches for several minutes before he works up the nerve to speak. "Boy."

Atreus stops breathing entirely for a moment, his entire body going stiff. Slowly, he rolls over to face Kratos. Even in the dark, Kratos can make out the dark circles under his eyes. Were he any closer, he suspects they would still be rimmed with red, too. Though he has clearly been working to hide it, Kratos has not missed the tears shed since Faye passed. Atreus' voice is small when he speaks. "Father?"

"You do not sleep." Neither of them do. But the boy is young and fragile, and the last thing Kratos wants is to see him fall ill again. Not now. "Why?"

Atreus is silent. Kratos studies his expression and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. Grief. Exhaustion. Loneliness. "I can't."

"Why not?" Kratos tries to approach this practically. As if the answer is not a simple one; the boy misses his mother and it troubles his mind. He cannot be blamed for that much.

"I..." Another stretch of hesitation. Kratos waits. "I- I used to... Mother used to..."

He trails off, his voice getting smaller and smaller, and it leaves Kratos to guess for himself. He remembers a million things about Faye, about the way she would interact with their son; every single one of them makes his chest ache with loss. He cannot tell stories the way she did; he knows little to nothing about the gods and creatures of this land. He cannot rock the boy to sleep, the way Faye used to when he was small enough to fit in the crook of her arm. Surely, there are herbal solutions, but they exist far outside his breadth of knowledge.

There is one small thing, though, that Faye used to do. When Atreus was younger, mostly; a way to calm him from a fit or lull him to sleep. To soothe him in his sickness and cheer him up in a low mood.

"She sang." Kratos looks away as he speaks, because her voice rings clear in his memory and it brings sorrow to his heart. "She used to sing to you."

"I... yeah." Atreus sounds nervous and when Kratos turns his head, the boy's eyes are fixed on the floor. With his cheek pressed against the mattress underneath him, he looks younger than he is, trying to hide from sight. "She sang lullabies."

Lullabies.

Kratos knows no lullabies in this language, or of this land. Though he has heard Faye sing, the words and melodies are unfamiliar; he never saw fit to learn them for himself, and though there are distant memories that have particular sounds attached to them, none of the fragments fit together neatly enough to form a song.

What he does retain, though, are from much, much older memories. Ones that taste of bitter loss and memories he prefers to bury; a different lifetime altogether.

"Rest," he says quietly, and he watches Atreus until the boy closes his eyes. A small furrow forms in his brow. Confusion.

Kratos clears his throat and looks towards the wall. A slow breath- in, out- and then he begins to hum.

His voice is low, and raspy, and sorely out of practice. The words come back in distant pieces, fitting oddly in his mouth after spending so many years fighting to learn this new tongue. The Greek is there, though, waiting for him, and when the words begin to spill out, quiet and gentle, he closes his eyes to focus.

He used to sing to Calliope, when she was a baby. Some nights, it was the only way to convince her to sleep; she had been a fussy child, and her mother had often asked him to help get her to bed. The lullaby is one from his childhood; one that reminds him of sharing a small room with his brother and listening to his mother's voice every night as a young boy. So many small associations, almost all of them painful, and now-

Now, he does not allow himself to become tangled in the past. Not when his son needs him more than ever, right here and right now.

When the song is finished, Kratos keeps his eyes closed, letting his ears ring with the silence of his home as he comes down from the rush of old emotion. His fingertips tingle with it, and his heart aches. Some infinitesimally small part of him is warm.

When he finally turns to look towards his boy, Atreus has not moved. He rests on the bed, facing Kratos, his fingers curled gently in the covers over his body. His eyes are closed, and his lips are parted gently. His breathing is even.

He is asleep.

Kratos exhales quietly and looks down at the floor, feeling that tiny bit of warmth pulse inside of him. He holds onto it tightly and tucks it away somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet.

He does not know what lies ahead. Not for himself, and certainly not for Atreus; Faye's death has sent them both wildly off-kilter, and he knows that this is only a small introduction to the challenges they will face. He has been distant in recent years, his son a virtual stranger, and he wonders if he will ever be able to connect with the boy the way Faye has always been able to. It seems impossible, but listening to the quiet breathing at his side as Atreus rests, finally peaceful after a day of heavy grief-

Perhaps, together, they will manage. Perhaps he can hope for that much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! <3


End file.
